With Hope and Love

by Ellie Dean

  They finally pulled apart breathlessly, aware they were the focus of everyone else on the platform. ‘I can hardly believe you’re here,’ she said, the palm of her hand tenderly cupping his cheek as her gaze noted the damage to his ear and the sickly pallor of his drawn face. ‘Oh, darling man. It’s so very good to see you.’

  Martin was in a daze, for her welcome had been overwhelming and the noise of the busy station was beginning to echo in his head and confuse him. ‘Where are the girls?’ he asked, looking towards the barrier.

  Anne’s gaze slid away, and she opened her handbag to retrieve a handkerchief as if she needed a moment to gather her thoughts. ‘I left them with Vi at the farm. I thought it would be best for them to meet you at home instead of a crowded station.’ She smiled up at him fleetingly and tucked her hand into his arm. ‘Besides, I thought we could spend a bit of time together without them pestering for attention.’

  The momentary joy of this reunion was shattered in the suspicion that she meant she didn’t want the girls causing a scene at the sight of him, and the knowledge broke his heart. But he said nothing as he hoisted up the kitbag and walked with her to the ticket barrier.

  The effects of the long journey were beginning to make themselves felt and he became very much on edge as they joined the bustling, eddying crowds on the concourse. The noise was awful, getting louder in his head and making him giddy.

  Anne was chattering away at his side and didn’t seem to notice he was struggling, so he gritted his teeth, determined to remain calm and focused on the exit which seemed miles away.

  As the exit drew closer he was about to congratulate himself on making it outside without mishap when a sudden echoing announcement came over the loudspeakers and made him freeze. He was back in the camp. The guards were blowing their whistles because someone was missing at roll call, and the Commandant was issuing orders through the megaphone.

  ‘Martin?’ Anne tugged his arm. ‘Martin? Whatever’s the matter?’

  Oblivious to Anne, he stayed frozen to the spot. To speak or move would bring about a beating, and it didn’t matter how cold he got, or how exhausted, he must stay on his feet with the other prisoners.

  Anne tugged his arm harder. ‘Martin, what’s got into you?’ she hissed. ‘People are beginning to stare and you’re frightening me.’

  The sharpness of fear in her voice brought him back to the present, but it felt as if he was sleepwalking. ‘It’s the noise,’ he managed. ‘I have to get out of here.’

  Anne didn’t ask any more questions, but quickly led him outside and across the road to where she’d parked the farm’s Land Rover.

  Martin threw the kitbag into the back and, resisting her offer to help, shakily slid into the passenger seat. He felt drained of energy and knew then that he shouldn’t have insisted upon discharging himself early from the hospital, for he was shivering and sweating profusely, his head still full of the noise and the images of the camp.

  ‘What can I do to help, Martin?’ she asked anxiously.

  ‘I’ll be all right in a minute,’ he said through chattering teeth. ‘Please don’t fuss.’ He dug into his trouser pocket and pulled out the bottle of pills. Swallowing two instead of the prescribed one, he grimaced at the bitter taste and wished he had some water to wash it away.

  Anne regarded him with deep concern, but made no comment as she turned the key in the ignition and drove away from the station.

  Martin rested his head back and closed his eyes in despair. This was not the homecoming he’d envisioned over the last two years, for he hadn’t realised what an utter wreck he would be, of no use to anyone. How wise Anne had been to leave the girls at the farm.

  As the train from London rattled its way towards Salisbury and her young siblings, Ivy was too tense to relax or even eat the fish paste sandwiches Andy’s mother had made for her this morning. Having never left London before she’d taken the plunge and gone to Cliffehaven in search of work, she was finding this journey a real test of her courage and strength after the dreadful two days she’d just been through.

  She unfolded the piece of paper for the umpteenth time – although she knew the list by heart, she just needed to check it again. Andy, bless him, had spent ages last night carefully going through the train timetable and had written down the names of all the stations she would have to pass through. He’d even underlined the two where she’d have to change, and she’d managed to find the right platform on both occasions with the help of a friendly guard.

  There was one more stop before she reached Salisbury, so she tucked the slip of paper into her jacket pocket and tried to concentrate on the difficult task ahead of her. Elsie had been three, and George had just turned five when they’d first been evacuated. The family they’d gone to then had been neglectful, feeding them nothing but beetroot sandwiches and making them sleep on mattresses in the attic, so when they’d returned to London during what became known as the phony war, Ivy’s mother had vowed to keep them with her.

  However, the East End soon became the target for mass bombing during the Blitz, and she’d reluctantly sent them away again. This time, they’d really fallen on their feet, for the middle-aged couple in Salisbury wrote regularly to report on their progress, and even enclosed snapshots of them so their parents could see how well they were doing. Ivy knew that her mother had found great comfort in those small kindnesses, but, like Peggy, still found it very difficult to cope without her little ones.

  Ivy stared unseeing out of the window. They weren’t so little now, for five years had passed since she and her parents had waved goodbye to them at the station with their name tags hanging on string around their necks, their brown paper parcels of clothes clutched in their small hands. The memory of those tear-streaked and bewildered baby faces had haunted her for days until that first letter had arrived from Mrs Johnson assuring the family that she and her husband would take the very best care of their precious little ones.

  Ivy’s mother had sent on a couple of photographs she’d received when they’d started school, so she had a fair idea of what they looked like now, but they wouldn’t know her from Adam, she realised sadly.

  The train stopped and Ivy watched disinterestedly as the passengers poured on, filling the compartments and squashing in along the corridors with their shopping bags and suitcases. She was thinking about Elsie and George and how they might have taken the news that their parents and big sister were gone. Ivy had no doubt that Mr and Mrs Johnson had tried to keep the memory of their parents and scattered family alive, and would have broken the news as gently as possible, but had the children really understood the meaning of their loss, and its consequences?

  As the train pulled out of the station and picked up speed, Ivy hauled down her small, heavy case from the luggage rack and placed it between her feet, then sat back down and adjusted the hat Sarah had lent her for the journey to a better position, and buttoned up her navy linen jacket. Her sprigged cotton dress was proving a bit too flimsy for the chilly but bright weather.

  Rita had given her a powder compact for Christmas, and she used the mirror to check that her lipstick hadn’t been smeared. Snapping it shut, she dropped it into her capacious bag along with the packet of uneaten sandwiches, two comics and a bag of sweets she’d bought at Waterloo station as gifts for the children.

  The train was slowing and there was a general bustle as people gathered their things and prepared to alight. Ivy’s heart was thudding so loudly she was sure everyone could hear it, and the squash of people was making it hard to breathe, but she edged forward and finally stepped down onto the platform.

  Moving away from the tide of passengers hurrying towards the barrier, she paused and took a deep breath, then dug her ticket out of her jacket pocket and slowly rejoined the flow. She’d sent a telegram yesterday, informing the Johnsons of the time of her arrival, but would someone be here to meet her – or would she have to make her own way to the village of Amesbury? Doing a mental calculation of the money she h
ad to last her for the duration of this visit, she handed over her ticket, hoping there was a bus service to Amesbury and she wouldn’t have to get an expensive taxi.

  ‘Miss Tucker?’

  Ivy snapped out of her thoughts and saw she was being addressed by a pleasant-faced, rather rotund and dapper little man in a three-piece suit and bowler hat. ‘Yeah? That’s me,’ she replied with inbred London wariness.

  ‘Richard Johnson,’ he said, swiftly removing his bowler to reveal a head as bald and polished as a billiard ball. ‘I’m delighted to meet you, although of course my wife and I wish it was under more pleasant circumstances.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you, I’m sure,’ she said, at last remembering her manners. ‘It’s ever so kind of you to meet me.’

  Ivy found she was an inch or two taller than him and as he stuck out his hand, she saw how pale and smooth it was and wondered fleetingly if his handshake would be limp and unpleasantly moist. But his grip was surprisingly firm and cool, his gaze direct but kindly. No wonder he’d been the branch manager of the local bank for so many years, she thought. The old ladies must love him.

  ‘It’s the least I can do considering the long journey you’ve had to make – and the reason for it,’ he replied, reaching to take her suitcase. ‘The children will soon be home from school and Marjorie is preparing high tea, so we’d better get on.’

  Ivy smiled inwardly as she followed him outside to the black Austin car, for it was just like him, all round and polished, and as neat as a new pin.

  He opened the door for her, then closed it carefully before depositing her case on the back seat. Taking his place behind the steering wheel, he racked the seat as far forward as he could and then drew on a pair of leather driving gloves. ‘Just a short drive home,’ he said as they set off at a decorous pace into the traffic. ‘I expect you’re hungry after that long journey.’

  Ivy realised she was, but there were questions to be asked first. ‘How are the kids? Were they ever so upset when you told them about what ’appened?’

  ‘Marjorie and I told them together, and there were a few tears,’ he replied, concentrating hard on the road ahead. ‘But I don’t think they really understood what had happened and who it had happened to.’

  ‘Yeah, I did wonder if that would be the case. They was ever so young when they left London, and kids that age ’ave short memories.’ She clenched her fists in her lap, cursing the bloody war that had made strangers of parents to children who’d had to grow up without them.

  ‘I understand you have two older brothers as well, Miss Tucker.’

  ‘Please, call me Ivy,’ she replied. ‘I never was one to stand on ceremony.’

  He nodded briefly in acknowledgement but didn’t ask her to call him Richard.

  ‘Yeah, I got two brothers, Mick and Stanley. They joined the Merchant Navy when I were in junior school, and rarely come home when they was on leave. They’ve been on the Atlantic convoys, so I were lucky I ain’t lost them an’ all – but to be honest, I’d be ’ard pushed to recognise either of them.’

  He gave a sigh and brought the car to a gentle halt at a T-junction. ‘I hear so many stories of families torn apart by the war. It’s a real tragedy.’

  He checked nothing was coming and slowly pulled away to the left which turned out to be a narrow, twisting country road lined by hedgerows. ‘It was one of the reasons Marjorie and I decided to take in evacuees,’ he continued. ‘We have a large, comfortable home, but sadly no children of our own, and wanted to offer a safe and loving haven to the little ones who needed it.’

  ‘They was lucky to land with you,’ said Ivy, ‘and I can’t begin to tell you ’ow much it meant to all of us to know they was being looked after so well.’

  She began to take in her surroundings as they entered a street lined with smart thatched houses of honey-coloured stone. There were flowers in the neat front gardens which were shaded by delicate trees bursting with blossom, and at the end of the road where it branched left and right, sat an ancient church.

  ‘It was we who were lucky,’ he replied, bringing the car to a standstill outside one of the houses. ‘Elsie and George are wonderful children, with lively personalities and clever, inquisitive minds. Elsie is a little young yet to determine where her strengths lie, but George’s headmaster is convinced he’ll sail through the grammar school entrance examinations next year.’

  Ivy noted how his face glowed with love and pride and felt a prickle of unease. She’d come to stay for a bit to get to know the kids and then take them back to Cliffehaven until the flat was ready in London, but it seemed the Johnsons had other ideas if they were planning George’s future at the local grammar school. She had to nip any such plans in the bud – and quickly, before there were any more misunderstandings.

  ‘None of our lot went to school after they turned fourteen,’ she said lightly. ‘We ’ad to earn a living to help out in the house. And when me and Andy take the kids on, we won’t have the money for the likes of grammar school.’

  She tentatively touched his sleeve to convey her sympathy and understanding, for he clearly adored the kids and it would break his heart when they left. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Johnson, but filling George’s ’ead with such things ain’t good fer ’im, ’cos where we comes from, things like grammar school are a pipe dream.’

  Richard nodded. ‘Marjorie and I thought that might be the case,’ he said quietly, ‘so we were wondering if you’d agree to something we’ve thought long and hard about since it was clear the war was coming to an end.’

  ‘Oh, yeah, and what’s that?’ she asked, suspicious that he was about to offer her money to educate George – which of course she’d refuse. She was no charity case, and neither were the kids.

  Richard switched off the engine and sat there staring out of the windscreen for a long moment before clearing his throat and squaring his shoulders. ‘We’ve come to love George and Elsie as if they are our own,’ he said carefully, ‘and can’t bear the thought of losing them. So … so we were wondering if you’d consent to letting us adopt them.’

  Ivy could only stare at him.

  ‘I realise it’s asking a great deal of you,’ he said with an edge of desperation in his voice as he turned to her. ‘But I beg you to give the idea your full consideration before you dismiss it.’

  Ivy didn’t know how to respond and was, for once, lost for words.

  16

  It was the morning of Ruby’s wedding, and Peggy was hugely grateful to Solly for giving her the day off from the factory. As the Town Hall ceremony was a fairly early one, she was dressed and ready for it – bar her hat and gloves – before having breakfast. Rolling her eyes at the mess in her kitchen, she fastened her wrap-round apron over her best dress, then quickly fed Daisy and slurped down a cup of tea with an aspirin as her mind raced with all the things still to be done.

  There was little time to deal with the slight hangover from the previous night’s party she’d held here, for the next few hours would be extremely busy. Mike hadn’t been able to book the Officers’ Club or the golf club – or indeed anywhere else for the reception due to the number of weddings taking place that day, and so it had been all hands to the pump to organise it at the Anchor, which Rosie very generously decided to close until the evening session. Everyone had done a sterling job of baking and sandwich making, and Peggy had managed to get enough ingredients together to make a passable wedding cake which she’d topped off with red ribbon and the smart plaster bride and groom that Mike had bought from the bakery.

  Peggy had taken the cake to the Anchor the day before, but there were still more sandwiches to make and everything had to be carried over before they went to the Town Hall. Tables would have to be decorated and dressed, chairs shifted, decorations pinned up, and the fresh flowers from Stan’s allotment put in vases – as long as he’d remembered to deliver them in all the excitement.

  Peggy cocked her head and smiled at the excited chatter coming from upstairs. Danuta had the morni
ng off her district nursing duties, and because she had so few pretty clothes, Sarah and Jane were kitting her out with things from their wardrobe. Cordelia was in her usual flutter trying to decide which hat to wear, and calling upon Ruby and Rita for their opinion, while Cissy was trying to get them to sit still for five minutes so she could use her skills with make-up and hairpins to ensure everyone looked their most glamorous.

  Peggy smiled and mopped Daisy’s face clean of porridge before the child wrestled away from her to run off and join in the fun. It was lovely to hear Cissy laughing again and being her natural, sweet self, and she hoped this was a sign that she’d come to terms with the silence from Randy, and was beginning to enjoy life again.

  She looked at the clock on the mantel and began to clear the table of the unusual mess the girls had left behind in their rush to get ready for the day. Ruby had stayed the night, and she and Rita would soon be leaving for the station cottage to change into their finery before they and Stan were driven to the Town Hall in Bertie’s car.

  The wedding outfits had been kept a very close secret from the minute the girls had returned from leaving them at Stan’s – which had been extremely frustrating for Peggy, who was dying to see what Ruby had chosen, and was a little put out that she hadn’t asked her to help her dress for the day. However, she was realistic enough to accept that, unlike her other chicks, Ruby was a mature, independent young woman who’d been married before, and it probably hadn’t occurred to her to ask. But it was lovely to have Ruby in the house after so long, even though it was only for a night, and in a matter of days she would be leaving England for her new life in Canada.

  Peggy sighed at the thought of her going so far away, but was deeply thankful that she’d had the chance to spend time with her and could share in her special day, for she was still one of her precious chicks.